


April

by ottermo



Series: Fandot Creativity [5]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fandot Creativity, Gen, World War 2 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fills from the April fandot creativity night :) </p><p>So far: plane-spotting in WW2, mysterious stains, an anniversary card, a game of truth or dare, a Skype call and a maths lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thunder

One thing Martin had discovered about Fitton in the two weeks since he’d been evacuated there was that people did so much more _outside_.

At home in London, outside was noisy and busy and loud and you almost always had to be holding Mother’s hand, which was a pain when you just wanted to stop and look at something (like the row of miniature planes in the window of the model shop, before it had been hit). Here, in Fitton, as long as there was no school to be going to, even somebody as young as Arthur seemed to have free reign in the daylight hours, just wandering over the village and through the surrounding fields. It was different - but Martin was getting to like it already.

This morning, he’d been introduced to Arthur’s next-door neighbour, Douglas. Douglas was a tall boy, older than both of them and proud of knowing all sorts of things they had never heard of. He was fifteen, Martin found out, and now that his older brother had signed up, there was really nobody for him to associate with (that was what Douglas called it - “associate”, not “play”) other than Arthur.

And now Martin, apparently. Martin wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Douglas - he was a bit sneery, and Martin could never be quite sure if he was teasing when he said things that sounded mean, which was quite often. Arthur adored him, though, that much was clear, so Martin followed after them obediently. He didn’t know anyone here, except Arthur and Arthur’s mum, so he really didn’t have much of a choice.

“But why do they call it a blitz? What a funny word!” Arthur was asking now, as they made their way down the edge of a wide cornfield. The crops were blowing gently in the breeze and Martin could hear crickets buzzing merrily, but no transport noise, which was still funny to think about. London was so _loud_.

“It’s German,” Douglas said, importantly, holding back a long branch from the hedgerow that bordered the field, so they could all pass. “For ‘lightning’.”

“Right. So which bit was the thunder?”

Douglas frowned down at the younger boy. “What?”

“Before lightning, you always get thunder,” Arthur said, confidently, “Mum told me that ages ago.”

“Well, it’s just a name,” Douglas said, reasonably. “I don’t think–”

He never finished that sentence, because suddenly Martin made an exclamation of surprise and pointed up at the sky. Douglas turned to look at him, a bit annoyed at being interrupted, then followed Martin’s finger. “Gosh,” he said, in a low voice.

The aeroplane was flying extremely low, far too low for someone who wasn’t planning on landing imminently, and surely it couldn’t be - this was a farmer’s field. But it just kept dropping further, and finally disappeared behind the far hedge. It must have landed very close to the border of the adjoining field.

Martin and Douglas exchanged a wide-eyed glance.

“What sort was that?” Arthur asked. “I’ve never seen it before!”

“No,” Douglas said gravely. “You wouldn’t have done.”

“A Messerschmitt,” Martin said, awed.

He barely even saw Douglas’s impressed, surprised expression before they set off running.


	2. Subtle

“Do you think she’ll see it?” Arthur asked nervously, shuffling where he stood in the doorway. “I moved a couple of things around, to cover it a bit…”

“Oh, did you?” Herc asked, realising too late that Arthur wouldn’t detect the sarcasm at all. He had indeed moved a couple of things, including the sofa and both arm chairs, and had dragged the chest of drawers out into the middle of the room, where it almost hid the large purple stain in the middle of the cream carpet, but not quite. 

“She might not notice,” said Arthur, hopefully. “Would you have, if I hadn’t told you?”

Herc held back a laugh of disbelief. “Oh….. no,” he said eventually. “I think you’ve been very subtle.” 

“Phew,” Arthur said. “For a moment I thought you were going to say she’d be really really cross.” 

Herc sighed. “I’m sorry, I was being - what do you call it? - Douglassy, again. She _is_ going to notice, I’m afraid. For one thing, with the sofa like that you can see the big mark on the wall again, now.” 

“Oh yeah,” said Arthur. “That was me as well. Ages ago.” 

“I feared as much.” 

“So what do you think I should do?”

Herc patted Arthur on the shoulder. “We’ll work something out between the two of us. Just promise me one thing, mmm?”

“What’s that?”

“If you ever get bored of stewarding, don’t go into interior design.” 


	3. Adore

_My dear Carolyn,_

I know you don’t like me to say it  
I know that it grates on your nerves.   
You’ve kindly allowed me a quota  
But less than I think it deserves.

I’ll give you this card over breakfast  
By which time, I’m sure, I’ll have used  
My ‘three times a day’ up already  
I know that you won’t be amused.

But today it’s a year since our wedding  
So maybe you’ll let me say more?   
(I’m not saying higher than twenty,  
Just something in excess of four.)

When you said it back, you thought maybe  
I’d not need to tell you so often  
But that’s just not how it’s been working -   
It’s not something frequency softens.

This past year has been simply splendid.  
And of this I hope you’re quite sure:   
I won’t say the ‘L’ word, or write it,   
But darling, it’s you I adore. 

_Happy anniversary.  
_ _-Herc_


	4. Truth

Douglas always chose the dare. Arthur usually spent a few minutes ‘ummmming’ and ‘aaaahhhing’ over the decision, as though it was an important one. Martin, who knew Douglas _far_ too well by now to risk being forced to do his bidding, always opted for ‘truth’, on the occasions when he really couldn’t get out of in-flight truth or dare. 

In this case, it wasn’t in-flight at all - there was a storm, and they couldn’t fly out of Durban until morning. Nobody was tired, so in the absence of Carolyn to threaten them into slumber, they’d ended up playing as many games as they could think of to while away the hours. 

“All right,” said Douglas, after a few moments’ thought. “I’ve got one.” 

Martin braced himself. If only Arthur would get in first more often. His questions were always about Toblerone flavours or bird sounds or favourite songs. Douglas’s tended to be more difficult to answer. 

“Say the world ends tomorrow,” Douglas said. “Who would you want to spend the last day with?” 

Martin considered. He leaned back in his chair, and thought, for so long that Arthur eventually piped up with, “Skip? Have you fallen asleep?”

“No,” said Martin then. “I suppose….”  

There were so few people he really _knew_ , that was the problem. When you balanced two very busy occupations, one of which was famously unsuited to sustaining close friendships, you didn’t collect very many of them. 

“I’d want to see my family,” he said, “but, other than them…. well.” 

He was glad of the growing darkness, suddenly. “I suppose it would be you lot. MJN.”

“Aw, Skip!” 

All that emitted from Douglas was a low chuckle.

Martin smiled into the gloom. They weren’t _all_ he had. He could scrape a few others to call friends, but really, if there was anyone who could see the end of the world coming, it was Carolyn, if there was anyone who could take your mind off it, it was Arthur, and if there was anyone who could stop it happening completely, it was probably Douglas. 

He could have it much, much worse. 


	5. Birling Day

“Hi, Martin! Ooh, wait a sec, I’ll get Mum in!”

“Hello Ar—oh, hello, Carolyn!”

“What’s this? That FaceTime nonsense again?”

“No, it’s Skype this time. We decided that’s better because it’s got ‘sky’ in the name.”

“…true.”

“And we spend lots of time in the sky.”

“Yes, the connection hadn’t escaped me. Hello, Martin. You’re looking well. How’s Switzerland treating you?”

“Hello! Not bad, thanks.”

“Martin, I won’t be offended, you can be honest.”

“…OK. It’s terrific, actually! B-but I do miss you all.”

“We miss you too! Don’t we, Mum?”

“He knows we do.”

“You could still say it!”

“Fine. Yes, Martin. We miss you.”

“I was just ringing - or, what do you call it, video-whatsitting- to ask how today went.”

“You mean you wanted to know if Douglas got away with it, with Herc watching?”

“….yes. Honestly, I was distracted all day wondering about it. Herc’s so clever -”

“Aw, you’re clever too!”

“Well, thanks Arthur, but not the sort of clever that was ever much help on Birling Day. Herc can probably give Douglas a run for his money, though…”

“Yes, so we all thought.”

“Wha- you mean he got it still?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“It was brilliant!”

“It was not brilliant, Arthur. It was a shambles. I thought Herc was prepared…”

“Is anyone ever prepared for Birling Day Douglas?”

“Mmm, perhaps not.”

“There’s always next year.”

“Yes. Maybe you could give him some tips.”

“Ah yeah! Brilliant! A Birling Day training course like my one in Ipswich! Only we could do it on Skype!”

“I don’t think there’s anything I can think of that Herc can’t come up with himself.”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s nothing quite like hands-on experience.”

“…It was so odd, seeing the match results online but not being there.”

“Yes. It was odd doing it without you here.”

“See, Martin! She does miss you.”

“…Is that the cat wanting to be let in?”

“Stop changing the subject, Mum!”

“Go on, you adopted the blasted thing, let her in before she scratches off the door.”

“Ahem, I’d better go anyway. Nice talking to you both!”

“Bye, Martin!”

“Say goodnight to the cat from me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to whoever suggested the cat when I was struggling to bring this to a close :D


	6. Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware the uncharacteristically soppy Carolyn :) but I had a lot of fun with this because MATHS! Arthur and I only disagree on two things: maths vs fun, and apples.
> 
> Apples do not feature in this fic.

Carolyn put down her pencil and sighed. 

“All right. Let me….there must be a better way of explaining it.”

She got up from her chair, leaving her eleven-year-old son sitting at the dining-room table, his head in his hands. Usually, Arthur sort of drifted through school without minding very much that he didn’t understand most of what was being said in lessons. Today, he’d come home almost in tears over _fractions_ , of all things, and in the absence of an explanation for why it suddenly mattered so much, Carolyn was staging an intervention. 

She rummaged in a cupboard for a few moments, before remembering Arthur’s feelings about ‘soft chocolate’ and heading for the fridge. 

She returned to the dining room, three triangular prisms in hand. “OK. Plan B.”

Arthur looked up, miserably. “I’m not hungry, mum. I just need to _know_ this.” 

“They’re not for eating,” Carolyn said primly. “They’re for maths. You’ll see.”

She unwrapped one of the toblerones, and set it between them. “Here’s one whole Toblerone, yes?”

He nodded. 

“I could break it into pieces if I wanted, or I could leave it whole. But say I was going to share it equally between you, me and Dad.” 

She took up her pencil and wrote the number ‘3′. “Three of us. One toblerone, divided by three of us.” 

She added the ‘1′ and the line to make the fraction. “That’s why you write ‘one third’ like that. Because it’s one _divided_ by three. That’s what the line means.” 

Arthur considered this. “OK.” 

“How many little pieces are there?” Carolyn asked. 

He counted. “Fifteen.”

“OK. I’m going to share out the fifteen pieces, are you ready?” 

She began breaking the chocolate apart, until there were three groups of five little triangles assembled on the table. “There we go. All divided up. How many do we each get?” 

“Five. Unless I give Dad one of mine, because–”

“No. No-one’s giving anyone any extra ones. That’s a very kind thing to do, but I’m afraid maths isn’t about being kind.”

To her horror, his lip started to tremble and he immediately buried his face in his hands again. 

“Arthur….” Carolyn said, despairing. “I didn’t mean….”

This was so unlike him that she found herself totally at a loss. She had no plan A, B or C for Arthur breaking down over school work. All through first and middle school, he’d been absolutely fine. Maybe the step up to seniors had been tougher on him than she’d realised. 

“…dear heart,” she said, dragging out a term of endearment she so rarely used without some element of sarcasm. “What happened at school today?”

He sniffled for a bit, then wiped his face and looked down at the table. “Nothing. It was just that you were right about maths and being kind.”

“ _Arthur_.” Her warning tone now. Not full-throttle, just enough to show she meant business. “What happened?”

He pushed a few of the toblerone pieces around in front of him, and finally said, “Mr Collins got me up in front of everyone to do a fractions thing but I _couldn’t_ and Harry and the others on the back row were all laughing and Mr Collins said–he said it wasn’t my fault that I’m not very bright and they shouldn’t laugh and I _know_ he was just trying to stop them teasing me but he just _said_ it in front of everyone and then afterwards he said sorry and it was the wrong words to say but that’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That I’m not very bright?”

He looked at her now, finally, his eyes swimming, face red. 

Carolyn felt her blood boiling over, already rehearsing the phonecall to the maths master the next day, but trying to keep rooted in the here and now, she took hold of her little boy’s hand and said, “No. If some silly people at school think that, then that’s their silly problem. But you know, and I know, that you’ve got all sorts of things you can do that they can’t.” 

“Not really,” he said softly. 

“I don’t know anyone else who knows the colours for all the different kinds of toblerone in the world,” Carolyn said, matter-of-factly. “And you’re certainly the best tea-maker in this house. And you – Arthur, school isn’t everything. One day you’ll understand that it’s really not a big part of life at all, if you don’t want it to be. There are lots and _lots_ of ways of being bright.” 

Seeing him still unconvinced, she let go of his hand and picked up the other toblerone. “Do you know why I bought this, Arthur?”

“Because the white ones are really special?”

“No. Well, partly. It was because you think the white ones are really special, and when I brought it home you were so happy with it, and that made _me_ happy even though everything else that day was driving me around the bend.” 

He regarded her doubtfully. 

“You have something special, Arthur, and I don’t mean the white toblerone, although that’s yours too. You make people _happy_. That’s a really rare thing. You know sometimes I call you ‘light of my life’?”

He nodded. 

“Well, this is a secret, so don’t tell anybody, but that’s not just a nickname. It’s true. You might not be very bright at school, and I’m sorry that it made you sad today. But you’re ever so, ever so bright in other things. Much more important things.” 

She scooped up the middle group of five segments, and put them with the group nearest him. “And for that, bright little light of my life, you may have my third.”

He thought for a moment. “Does that mean I’ve got this now?” 

He took her paper, scribbled out the 1 and wrote a 2. “Two thirds?”

She beamed. “We’ll make a mathematician out of you yet.” 


End file.
